you're my rugged heart
by flowermasters
Summary: "Well, Agent Carter," Colonel Phillips says, eyeing her abdomen pointedly. "You've got yourself in a real mess now, haven't you?"


A/N: This is a companion piece to _you're my head start_ - technically, it's a prequel, but you can read them in any particular order. As with the other, this functions as an AU if we assume Steve and Peggy never had relations.

Warning for: pregnancy (and discussion of dealing/coping with said pregnancy), canon character death, grief, sadness, some language, discussion of period-typical sexism, and a mention of period-typical racism.

Title comes from 'Gone Gone Gone' by Phillip Phillips.

* * *

The doctor, a kindly man with a grey mustache, thinks she's married. "Congratulations, Mrs. Carter," he says, when she comes in for her follow-up appointment. His cheerful smile turns to a look of confusion when she promptly bursts into tears.

Horrified by the outburst, Peggy pulls herself together as quickly as possible and tries not to sniffle while the doctor babbles on about where to find certain remedies to ease severe nausea or back pain or any one of the miscellaneous other ailments that come along with pregnancy. When he finally ushers her out the door about fifteen minutes later, he lets his hand rest on her upper back briefly and says paternally, "Won't your husband be happy to hear the news, dear? Is he serving?"

"Yes," Peggy lies, even as she blinks back a fresh onslaught of tears.

She tries to compose herself as she walks quickly back to headquarters, but it's hard. Normally she's more than capable of keeping her emotions in check (save for anger, generally speaking - she's got a hell of a temper and she knows it.) She'd never once cried publicly in the early weeks after Steve's disappearance, but nowadays the mere mention of his name is enough to have her teary-eyed. Part of the reason she'd suspected she might be pregnant in the first place (other than the obvious late period) is because she's been moody and emotional for weeks - and now she has her confirmation.

She's almost back to normal when she reaches the SSR bunker, but her composure is all gone in a dash when she nearly runs right into Howard as she rounds a corner. "Whoa, there," he says, dropping a few rolled-up blueprints during an attempt to avoid hitting her. "My apologies, Agent - hey, are you alright?"

Peggy bends down to grab one of his blueprints and says rather sharply, "Fine, thanks."

"You sure?" he asks, eyeing her as he, too, bends down to pick up a tube. "Your, uh, mascara is smudged."

Peggy had actually been on her way to the washroom to rectify that, but it's too late now - she's blinking back tears yet _again_. The doctor had failed to mention that pregnancy would turn her into a bloody faucet. Peggy reaches up and wipes at her eyes as best she can and then straightens up and hands Howard his blueprint. "I'm quite alright, thank you," she says, as primly as she can manage.

"Oh," Howard says, unconvinced. He shuffles his mountain of prints awkwardly and then says, "Well, if that's the case, would you mind helping me get these outside? I'm taking them back to my hotel."

Peggy obliges without hesitating - helping Howard pack up will give her a much needed distraction. Now that the war in Europe is on its last legs, Peggy is seriously lacking in things to keep her busy. She takes several tubes from Howard and follows him as he leads the way outside, where a sleek, shiny car is waiting. Once all the blueprints are in the backseat, Howard turns his attention to her, squinting slightly in the light from the sun. "Let me take you out to lunch, Carter," he says with characteristic abruptness. "Surely there must be one restaurant in London that hasn't been blown to bits."

"I've already eaten," she says, which isn't technically a lie. She did eat a late breakfast, which she'd thrown up shortly before her appointment at the doctor's. Even if she'd been in the mood to eat, she'd rather not chance vomiting in the middle of whatever fancy restaurant Stark will no doubt take her to.

"Tea, then," Howard says, heading towards the driver's side of the car, and Peggy sighs, knowing her fate for the afternoon has already been decided. "You Brits do love your tea. I'm not too fond of it, myself."

"Perhaps it's an acquired taste," Peggy suggests dryly, taking her seat in the passenger seat. She'd prefer to drive, seeing as Howard isn't nearly as familiar with British roadway laws as she is, but since she doesn't know where they're going, she doesn't protest.

Howard ends up driving her to his hotel, which he claims serves good tea (although he openly admits to never having tasted any.) Peggy could do with a cup to settle her stomach and her nerves, so she doesn't put up a fuss, although she does sternly inform Howard that they can't take the entire afternoon off for tea and a chat. "Haven't you heard, Carter?" he says, with a wry smile. "The war's over."

"Not just yet," she reminds him, pursing her lips, and he doesn't reply.

Howard waits until they're in the hotel lounge and they've both ordered drinks (tea for Peggy, scotch for Howard) to arch an eyebrow at her and say, "Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong, or are you going to make me guess?"

When she raises her eyebrows at him, he says, "Look, I've known you for quite a while now, Peggy, and I've never seen you look anything less than put together. Not even when Rogers went down. So I know something's not right."

Peggy can't help it - she looks away, casting her eyes downward ever so briefly, and when she looks at Howard again, his expression is dark. They're all grieving in their own ways, but Howard is a bit more open about it than Peggy is - less practiced, perhaps, at hiding his emotions. "That's it, huh?" he asks. "Steve?"

"Well, you're not wrong," Peggy says heavily. Howard may be flighty and mercurial when it comes to most things, but when he really focuses on something, he's uncommonly persistent. He'll work the information out of her somehow; at any rate, perhaps it might be a good idea to tell someone - to lighten the burden, so to speak. Even if that someone is Howard Stark.

A waiter appears bearing Howard's drink and Peggy's tea, and Howard tips him generously before waving him away. "Well, what changed?" Howard asks. "You've kept it together beautifully so far."

Peggy knows what he means by that - _you've kept it together until now, when you've suddenly turned into a grieving widow. _"Nothing changed, really," she says, absently stirring sugar into her tea. "It's just - well. I'm in the family way."

Howard pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, lips parted, eyes wide. "Oh, shit," he says.

"'Oh, shit' indeed," Peggy says dryly.

Howard takes a long, slow sip of his drink, seemingly mulling over this information. "I didn't know Rogers had it in him," he says musingly.

Peggy gives him a sour look, and he amends, "I mean, I'm sure he was capable of it. I just didn't think he'd ever work up the nerve. For God's sake, the man thought 'fondue' was a euphemism for carnal knowledge."

"Well, be that as it may," Peggy says, swallowing a surge of strangely devastating affection, "he did, indeed, have it in him."

"Some luck, Peg," Howard says, sympathetic. "Well, what are you going to do?"

Peggy hasn't really gotten that far yet. Truthfully, she hasn't really gotten the chance to absorb it all. She's been off-kilter for over a month now, half grieving and half soldiering on, giving neither effort her full attention. She feels stuck, hung, breathless, still waiting for the end of a sentence that will never be finished.

"I don't know," she says truthfully, before taking a sip of her tea. Her hands are trembling ever so slightly, she realizes, and she quickly sits the cup down before she embarrasses herself any more than she already has today.

Howard is studying her, his brow furrowed. "I guess the honorable thing would be for me to ask you to marry me."

Peggy blinks at him, nonplused, and then despite everything, she starts laughing. "That won't be necessary, Howard," she manages, between shaky giggles. The idea of _Howard Stark_ making an honest woman out of her is ridiculous in itself, but the fact that he's offering it while mostly sober is downright hilarious. If Steve could hear this, he'd never let Howard hear the end of it.

Howard lets out a huff of relief. "Thank God," he says. "No offense, Peggy, but I'm not ready to settle down. And I'd probably make a bad father."

Peggy's laughter gradually fades, her latest mood swing finished. Silence falls between the two of them. After a few moments, Howard sighs and sits down his glass. "Carter," he says, and she raises her eyebrows at him expectantly. "I hope you know that I'm here for you. No matter what. You need anything, you give me a call, okay?"

Peggy smiles faintly. "Thank you, Howard." She's sure her pride will prevent her from ever going to Howard for anything other than a listening ear, but it's nice to know that the offer stands, anyway.

Before they head back to base Peggy makes sure to swear Howard to secrecy, and he seems sincere about the whole thing, but it still comes as no surprise when she's called to a private meeting with Colonel Phillips within the week. At the very least, he's calling her in to ask why she's been such a mess lately. Peggy puts on a brave face, but she's already prepared to meekly accept whatever reprimand he decides to give her. It's the least she can do - resolve to cause no more trouble and get herself together.

The colonel does seem to have a reprimand planned, but it's not the one she's expecting. He waits until she's seated in front of him to speak. "Well, Agent Carter," Colonel Phillips says, eyeing her abdomen pointedly. "You've got yourself in a real mess now, haven't you?"

Peggy swallows hard. _Blast_. She'd been hoping to make it til the end of the war without anyone finding out - at least then she'll probably be given a new assignment and she can start fresh, in a place where her name won't constantly be attached to Steve's. At the very least, she'd been hoping to stay on top of the matter, but here she is instead.

Rather than show her helplessness, Peggy swallows hard and says, "With all due respect, sir, I didn't exactly get _myself_ into it."

"Carter, I can assure you that I am aware of how you got into this mess," Phillips says, giving her a look that she's come to know well - one that says _don't push it_. "How you were fool enough to allow it to happen I'll never know, and I'm not sure I want to."

Peggy has nothing to say to that, so she asks, "How did you find out?" She knows exactly how, of course, but she still wants to hear it from Phillips so that she has more reason to throttle Howard later.

"Stark referred to your 'condition' in conversation earlier," Phillips says, looking very much as if he would like to roll his eyes. "When I asked him just what the hell he was talking about, he clammed up immediately. But it's not exactly hard to figure out, Carter. That boy might want to work on his poker face if he's going to be a father."

Peggy stares at the colonel for a second, and then says, "He's not. Howard isn't the father."

That draws the colonel up short, and then he sighs heavily. "Tell me it wasn't Rogers."

Peggy doesn't say anything at all, and the colonel sighs. "Well, I guess that's a blessing in disguise. I don't think the world is ready for two Starks running loose."

After a moment of silence, he speaks again, and this time his tone is more calm and grave than she's ever heard it. "Carter, I trust you realize what this sort of thing could do to your career."

Peggy resists the urge to look down. "Yes, sir, I do." It's all she's been thinking about for the past several days, actually. It's hard enough being a woman in the force, but an unmarried woman with a fatherless child to care for? Her odds had taken a fifty percent cut the moment she'd finally brought Steve into her bed all those weeks ago.

The colonel raises his eyebrows at her. "I also trust you realize what will happen if word gets out that the late, great Captain America has a child," he says, and Peggy feels her heart sink. She hasn't given that as much thought - she hasn't had much time, as there's only so much she can worry about at once - but it's not hard to catch on to what the colonel is implying. If people in power find out, her womb and its inhabitant will become, for all intents and purposes, property of the U.S. government. If the media finds out, Peggy could end up splashed across the pages of every newspaper in the country. She can't decide which fate is worse.

"I do, sir," she says. "But there's not a whole lot I can do now." With Steve gone, she's on her own, so all of the decision-making falls to her. She has no intention of getting rid of the pregnancy - not because she's too moral for it, but because she'd rather be pregnant than dead or totally sterile. She also doesn't think giving the baby up for adoption is a good plan - after all, who knows what sort of effects the serum in Steve's genes could have on a child. Peggy's not heartless enough to give up the child knowing it could be in store for a whole lot of trouble without her around to protect it.

Colonel Phillips just looks at her for a minute, and Peggy hopes to God she doesn't make a fool of herself and do something utterly ridiculous, like break down in tears. "Well, I'll do my best to keep this under the radar, Carter," he says finally. "For your sake. But once the rumor's out, it's out, so I'd work something out with Stark if I were you - pin the blame on him."

She doesn't have the heart to tell Phillips that Howard had already offered to take the blame, and she'd done them both a favor by turning him down. Peggy doesn't have the patience to play wife to Howard, and he's far too interested in skirt-chasing to give his lifestyle up for her sake. Nevertheless, she says, "Duly noted. Thank you."

"Alright, you're dismissed," Colonel Phillips says, and Peggy nods and rises, eager to escape what has been one of the most awkward conversations she's ever been involved in. Phillips might not show it often - he doesn't show it at all, actually - but she knows that he thinks highly of her, and he must be disappointed to see her in this position. Truthfully, she's disappointed, too, but there really isn't anything that can be done for it.

As she turns to walk away, Phillips says, "Carter."

She turns back. "Sir?"

His face is devoid of sarcasm, irritation, or exasperation for the first time in Peggy's memory. "I'm sorry," he says finally, and Peggy knows he isn't talking about her current predicament. He's talking about Steve, and that - his sympathy, his pity - hurts Peggy even worse than his disappointment. At least in the case of disappointment, Peggy could be angry at herself and use it as fuel to do better, to make up for the position she's in. But she can't very well be angry at Steve for saving the world, and she knows she's wasting energy by being angry at the universe for taking him away - after all, she isn't the only girl who's lost a sweetheart to this merciless war, and all of their complaints are going unanswered.

Peggy meets the colonel's eyes evenly, and tries not to show her broken heart in her expression. She'll never know if she's successful or not. "I am, too, Colonel," she says truthfully. With that, she turns and walks stiffly away, and he does not stop her again.

Fortunately for Peggy, the war in Europe draws to a long-awaited end soon enough, and she is reassigned to the states without ever causing any buzz in London. It's at this point that she has to be honest with her new superiors - well, partially honest, at least. She does have to admit upfront that she's pregnant - which, sadly, will leave her unofficially chained to her desk for the next several months - but she doesn't have to give up the father's name. Flynn, the prejudiced arse, may have his suspicions, but she has no obligation to confirm them as of yet.

Adjusting to living full-time in America is not difficult in itself. Peggy had spent the entire war going to and fro across Europe, wherever her assignments took her - so swapping one country for another is not the huge leap that it should be. But she's not the average young woman, and that's what makes things difficult. It's bad enough that her work is insanely dull - it would probably be the same even if she wasn't pregnant, though. Slap a pair of breasts on someone and suddenly everyone thinks they're only good for taking messages and fetching coffee. But she's pregnant, and as it becomes more and more difficult to conceal, she can feel the scrutiny on her. The men in her office stare and mutter among themselves. Agent Flynn watches like a particularly smug hawk, just _waiting_ for her to slip up and reveal that she's actually carrying the illegitimate child of Captain America. The women who live in her apartment building give her mixed reactions - quiet disapproval from the widows and spinsters, and softer, there-but-for-the-grace-of-God looks from the young, fun-loving single girls.

It's hard, but it's not a burden that Peggy can't bear. She's looked into the eyes of soldiers who thought her unfit to lead them because of her gender, who thought she should be waiting at home like a besotted fool for the menfolk to return from war, and she's overcome that. She can handle this scrutiny. What she's not sure she can handle, however, is herself.

She dreams of Steve almost nightly, and she wakes up with the sound of a radio crackling in her ears. When she feels the baby move for the first time she sequesters herself in her bedroom for an entire evening and just cries, her picture of Steve pressed to the gentle slope of her belly, as if that might somehow make up for the fact that Steve will never get to press his hands to her stomach and feel their baby move. Peggy has yet to feel particularly maternal outside of the basic instincts that any normal human has, but she just _knows_ that Steve would have loved to be a father. It makes her particularly miserable to realize that out of the two of them, she's the one less suited for parenthood, and she's the only one who's getting a chance.

But even after the worse nights - the nights when insomnia strikes and she lies awake cursing God for taking Steve away, or the nights when her tears come fast and unstoppable - _something_ in her makes her get up the next morning, take a bath, and get ready for the day. Something about her won't lie down and give up - at least, not permanently. Perhaps it's her own nature, the same nature that wouldn't allow her to give up on working for the SSR during the war. Or maybe it's the knowledge that Steve had loved her, for all her good parts and her bad parts, and that means that he'd loved her for her determination and her grit. Steve would have been crushed to see her give up, and Peggy could never bear to really hurt Steve, so she just keeps going. She might be going it alone, but Peggy Carter is still going.

She's all alone in her apartment the evening the labor pains start, but she handles the situation fairly well, all things considered. She gets her things together as quickly as she can and locks her door behind her, and then she calmly drives herself to the hospital. It's a task Steve would have insisted on doing, but Peggy must do it herself.

The nurses in the maternity ward are, thankfully, much better at withholding judgment than most of the people Peggy's come into contact with over the past several months. They don't tut and whisper to one another when she informs them that there is no father-to-be anxiously waiting on the other side of the double doors - they merely nod and go about their duties. It would be refreshing if Peggy hadn't been in so much _pain_.

The birth is a difficult one - so difficult, in fact, that there are great splotches of time in her mind where Peggy remembers nothing other than the vague sounds of people speaking urgently around her. One thing she does remember, however, is a fragile, thin wail that cuts through the cacophony of voices around her. She cracks open her eyes and lifts her head dazedly, and she spots a tiny red face right before the baby is whisked away by nurses to be wiped clean. With that little face in mind, she promptly loses consciousness entirely.

When she comes around, it's to a nurse gently prodding her. "Ms. Carter?" the girl says, her voice sweet and gentle. Her name tag reads _Annie_ and her face is as soft and fresh as a daisy. "You've been resting for a while. Would you like to see your baby?"

"Yes," Peggy rasps, remembering that face and the squall it had been producing last she saw it. "I would."

The nurse disappears for a few minutes, and when she returns, there's a small bundle in her arms. The baby's blanket is pink, indicating a girl. Peggy watches, numb, as Annie approaches, and holds out her arms on cue when she is offered the baby. The baby is sleeping, but when she is jostled ever so slightly during the transfer, her eyes crack open just a tad before drifting shut again.

"She's got blue eyes," Peggy remarks distantly.

"Most babies do," the nurse says, as she fiddles with the charts on the table near Peggy's cot.

"They're like her father's," Peggy says, without thinking. She's tired and sore and on a hormonal overload - a loose tongue can be excused, really.

"Is he coming to see her soon?" the nurse asks. She's just making conversation, Peggy knows, but the question still hurts.

"No," she says, never taking her eyes off the baby. "He died in the war." It's her default excuse, and it _is_ the truth, although of course there's quite a bit more to the story. It's a story that Annie has probably already heard many times over in the past nine months, whether she realizes it or not.

Annie bites her lip, oblivious and embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," she says, gentle and sincere.

When Peggy doesn't say anything else, Annie asks, "How are you feeling, Ms. Carter?"

There isn't really a word to describe what she's feeling. Physically, she feels like she's been beaten to hell and back, but it's nothing she can't handle. She's sad. There's an unavoidable, desolate place in her heart where Steve should be, and it hurts to even think about him. But she's not weeping or anything of the sort. She's looking at the face of her baby - _her baby_, that she nearly died bringing into the world - and she's actually smiling, just a tad. "I'm alright," she says, and it's actually mostly true, for once.

Peggy names the baby Vivian, a name which has no particular significance but that she's rather fond of. The baby's name, legally speaking, is Vivian Stephanie Carter. Her middle name is the only sentimental part of her legal name - Steve will never get the chance to make a true namesake, after all, so the least Peggy can do is give his daughter some small piece of him to carry with her. Peggy's heart almost breaks a second time over when she has to pass down the surname Carter, but no matter how much she might like to put Rogers on the birth certificate, she knows good and well that as long as she wants to protect the baby from unwanted and invasive attention, she can never publicly acknowledge Steve as the father. As far as everyone else is concerned, this baby must be hers and no one else's, and Peggy will simply have to accept that.

Her stay in the hospital is extended by a few days since she'd nearly kicked the bucket during Vivian's birth, so Peggy assumes she's in for several long, boring days while she recuperates. She certainly doesn't expect to become the talk of the maternity ward by the next morning, when an excessively large delivery of flowers arrives for her - from Howard, naturally. Peggy had called him to inform him of Vivian's birth and to specifically request that he _not_ make a fuss, but of course he'd ignored her. The card which accompanies the flowers reads: _Peg - tell her all about her Uncle Howard. My love, Howard Stark_. The signature is nearly illegible, but the message has been scrawled messily onto a sheet of paper bearing the Stark Industries logo, which sends the entire nursing staff into a state of slight hysteria.

By the time that scene dies down a bit (to keep the peace, she has to promise every nurse in the maternity ward - and a couple of doctors - that she'll introduce them to Howard if he drops by for a visit), Peggy is actually ready for a long, boring day. Naturally, the fates have other plans for her, and the following afternoon, she hears a very familiar voice booming in the hallway. "Can you tell me where Miss Peggy Carter is?" Dum Dum says, presumably to the nurse manning the front desk. "We're pals of hers."

Peggy sits up in bed immediately, quickly doing her best to make herself look presentable. There's only so much she can do when she's got a dozing infant in her arms, and within seconds, there's a knock at her door. "Come in," she says, and the Howling Commandos promptly pour in.

"Carter!" Dugan, the first to enter, says brightly. "Can I call you Peggy now?"

Peggy gives him a begrudging smile. "I suppose you may."

There's a bit of a tense moment when a couple of nurses refuse to allow Gabe to stay in her room, but after Peggy sternly tells them what's what, they reluctantly give in and Peggy is entirely surrounded by Steve's friends. It's strange, to say the least, but they're warm and familiar, and Peggy appreciates that. They're her friends, too, she realizes, and she doesn't have very many friends at the moment.

"I'll tell you one thing," Dum Dum announces after he makes himself at home in one of the chairs next to Peggy's bed. "I did _not_ come all this way to not get a good look at that baby."

Peggy relinquishes Vivian over to Dum Dum, and to her immense surprise, the Commandos immediately turn into a bunch of cooing fools when faced with her. It's an amusing sight, and Peggy finds herself smiling and laughing more than she has in months.

The Commandos are busy arguing in hushed tones over who gets to hold her next - Morita is rolling up his sleeve for an arm wrestle with Gabe, while Falsworth watches for any signs of cheating - when Dernier leans closer and smiles at Peggy, with just a touch of sadness in his expression. "_Elle ressemble à son père_," he says softly. _She looks like her father._

"_Oui. Elle fait_," she murmurs back. _Yes. She does. _It's true - Vivian has Steve's stamp all over her face. The Howling Commandos must all recognize that, but thankfully, they do not comment or question. Peggy's not sure if it's because they're all in mutual agreement to respect her choices or if it's part of their own way of mourning Steve, but she's grateful for it all the same.

Peggy is cleared to go home the next day, having made a decent and quick recovery from the birth. She's still sore and tired, but she gets the feeling that's not going to change any time soon. Everything she's read about motherhood says that the first months are incredibly hard, particularly when it's one's first child, and she can only imagine that it's even harder with no one around to help. But this is her lot in life, and while she'll _always_ long for Steve, she can no longer imagine not having Vivian. Vivian, who looks _so _much like Steve - only one small piece in his legacy, but by far the most important in Peggy's book. Peggy loves her more than life itself.

The first weeks and months _are_ hard, but one of the things that makes Peggy such a good field agent is that she's adaptable, and adapt she does. She copes. And so the weeks melt into months and the months melt into years, and Peggy keeps going. The loss of Steve - and the knowledge that he'll never get a chance to be a part of their daughter's life - will never hurt her any less, but Peggy's doing her best to deal, and that's all she can do. She hopes it's enough.

It is.


End file.
